Discoveries
by your-favorite-mistake
Summary: HPDM eventual slash. Draco is a Death Eater and a spy for the Order, but what happens when Voldemort finds out? And why is it that the first person he turns to is Harry? T or maybe up for language and violence... flames loved it gets better later chapters
1. Prologue

Harry Potter swept down the stairs from the dormitories into the Gryffindor common room, throwing his invisibility cloak around his shoulders as he did so. Quickly but silently he slipped through the portrait hole and hurried towards the lobby and the double doors that led to the sweeping Hogwarts grounds, praying that he wasn't too late. He'd had a hard time getting away from the large game of wizard's chess being played in the dormitory; Ron was busy beating every Gryffindor in the tower, and the twins (who had snuck into the castle with Butterbeer for Gryffindor tower thanks to some passageways seen only on the Marauder's Map) were taking bets on the games. Harry smiled a little at the thought, but it was a grim smile that didn't quite reach his eyes; he seemed to have aged ten years in the last one. Now in his 7th year, Harry was being trained as hard as possible by the Order, pushed to his limits by Remus, Tonks, and the others in the hope that he would one day defeat Voldemort. The war had drained him, as well as the constant search for horcuxes, and as much as he tried to them he knew that the changes were obvious. Running his calloused hands, rough from training day and night, through his hair, his thoughts turned to what he was going to do.

He hoped he wasn't too late.

Draco Malfoy walked calmly down the front steps onto the Hogwarts lawn for what he knew would be the last time. Breathing deeply in the crisp October air, he looked up at the night sky. Hundreds of stars stared back at him, cold and indifferent, and he felt suddenly naked and exposed even though he knew that the invisibility charm he'd cast on himself back at the dormitory still held. He quickly made his way to the edge of the lake, lifting the charm as he did so. The water was still as glass, and its surface reflected starlight and moonlight like a mirror. His thoughts were eerily calm; deep and still, like the water, and equally opaque. His face was impassive as he thought of the future… He would wait for ten minutes. Potter would come, or he wouldn't; after that, Draco knew what he would have to do.

He only wished that he didn't have to do it alone…

Fifteen minutes later, Harry Potter strode across the sweeping Hogwarts lawn, directly towards the lake. When he got there, two observations hit him at once. One was that he was late, and Malfoy wasn't there; he was alone. The second was that there was a softly glowing piece of parchment rolled up in the tree not six feet from where he now stood. Murmuring a few defense spells as a precaution (it was automatic now; his never ceasing search for the horcuxes and the simple fact that the wizarding world was in the middle of a war had left their marks) he grabbed it. It was warm in his hand. Unrolling it and tapping it with his wand, Harry discovered that it contained several powerful spells so that if anyone but him had picked up that piece of parchment, it would have simultaneously burned he holder's hand and disintegrated. Obviously, whoever left it had meant business. Scanning the parchment, he quickly realized what it was- a letter from Malfoy. Suddenly, Harry's eyes riveted on a line he had just spotted, and his breath hissed through his teeth. Carefully re- reading the entire letter, it was all he could do to try and clear his head and think of a plan. As thoughts raced through his mind, only one thing escaped his lips:

"Oh, _shit_."


	2. Goodbyes

Draco Malfoy couldn't remember ever being as pissed at Harry- fucking- _Potter_ as he was right then. Who the hell did he think he was? Standing him up! Him, Draco Malfoy! After Draco had had the humility to send him a message and ask for his help!

Thoughts still racing, Draco forced himself to begin to calm down. He couldn't face the Dark Lord (Voldemort, he muttered through clenched teeth; just Voldemort) like this. He had a hard enough time shielding his mind in the Dark Lo- Voldemort's presence when he was calm. And Draco knew that this would be the most important meeting he would ever have…

He knew. Voldemort _knew_. Draco didn't know how he knew, but he did. Draco had been a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, very nearly the most valuable they had, for almost a year. For almost a year, Draco had been feeding the Order information on the whereabouts of wanted Death Eaters, warnings about attacks, clues on where to find the horcuxes- ever since he had taken the Dark Mark, Draco had lived a double life. But now… he shook his head. His mark had been burning now for almost a week, and as time passed, the more intense the pain became. It was damned near impossible to concentrate on anything else now, impossible to ignore his Lord's call. Draco had no doubts about his fate: he would be tortured and killed. The Dark Lord was not slow to dispose of the unfortunate souls who displeased him, and there was always another to take the place of the last slain. Draco shuddered at the knowledge of what awaited him; his father had used Unforgivable Curses on him before, and the pain was unfathomable. But Draco knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what he had to do.

Sighing, he rolled up the letter he had just finished writing to Potter and tapped it with his wand, sealing it with the strongest protection spells he knew. Draco knew that the chances of Potter getting it were basically none, but it was worth a try, and at this point, there was nothing left to do. There was no time. If it hadn't been midnight, he would have gone looking for Potter, Mudblood, and Weasel; he was sure that they would be accessible. He could have tried to send Potter an owl or floo the letter to the Gryffindor dormitories, but there was too great a chance of it being intercepted. His spells were good and would outsmart most any students, but they weren't impenetrable. It would have to do. He stuck the softly glowing parchment in a crack in the nearest tree he could find, and set off for the gate blocking the path into the school. Another major problem he'd always had with Hogwarts: you couldn't Apparate or Disapparate on the grounds. Shoving his hands into his robes to keep them warm, his thoughts turned to Potter again. That damned Potter! Why had it been him, anyway? Draco suddenly questioned himself. Why had he sent that message to Potter? He could have sent it to Mudblood, who would have at least had some intellectual idea of what was going on; he could have sent it to Dumbledore or any other Order member, for that matter, who would have had the power to protect him; but no. It had been Harry- fucking- Potter, the Boy- Who- Lived. Damnit! He slammed his fist palm- first into the stone wall beside the gate before he realized that he had reached his destination. Stepping through the gate, he sighed and looked up at the stars for what he was sure would be the last time. Taking a deep breath, he trained his mind on his master, feeling the pain of his mark intensify as he did so. And with a CRACK, he was gone.

Harry Potter stood stunned for a few moments, staring at the piece of parchment in his hands. His first thought upon reading the letter was that it must have been a joke; but as much as he had always disliked Malfoy, he had to admit that this was a little far to go just to pull a prank. Besides, Harry reminded himself, Malfoy had been on their side ever since taking the Dark Mark; he has fed them true and useful information at Order meetings that he never would have spared if he was truly working for Voldemort. And now, he had asked Harry here and left him this note…

_Potter,_

_I do not know why I asked you here, as you apparently couldn't spare a few moments away from your precious fans to help out a fellow Order member; but as you are the noble Saviour of the Wizarding World, I thought that you might have been of some help. However, that is of little consequence now; time has run out. _

_He- Voldemort- has found out about my work for the Order. I am not sure how, but there is little time now for me to try and puzzle out such trivialities. The important thing is that he knows. My mark has been burning for a week now, and the pain is growing more intense by the hour. I know that even if he did not plan to kill me before, he certainly will now; the Dark Lord does not appreciate it when his followers keep him waiting. I am at peace with the fact of my death, even if I do not look forward to the pain I will surely have to endure and the torturous questionings about Order business. I do know how to resist a truth serum, which is a talent taught to all Death Eaters, but I know that the Lord's followers will not have any qualms about torturing me for the information. The Unforgivable curses are called "unforgivable" for a reason. _

_I did not ask you here tonight to request your protection. However, I feel the need to explain myself and some of my past actions to you so that the record will be set straight when I am gone, and no one will think me a coward or a deserter._

_Time is short, as is my story: I apologize, first, to Weasely and Weaselette, or Ron and Ginny if you prefer. I was raised to hate anyone considered inferior to me in terms of physical wealth, and so I did; but they did nothing to deserve my hate._

_I apologize also to Granger- Hermionie. I was raised to hate anyone without the "pure blood" my family is so proud of, but in this last year I have come to realize that blood is only blood and in the end one's ancestors matter not at all. _

_I apologize, finally, to you, Potter. I was raised to hate you as well, and after you refused my hand offered in friendship on the train first year, I thought that I was right to do so. But I have grown over time and I have learned that I am to blame for many of my problems, not any of you. Working alongside the infamous "Golden Trio" and the Order in this last year has changed my perspective a great deal. _

_I must end this now. Time is short. Please, if you can, tell all of those I have hurt in these past six and a half years that I am truly sorry. I can only pray that you receive this, that you can accept my reasons, right or not, for all that I have done, and most importantly that my death might redeem my life._

_Always, Draco Malfoy _

As Harry finished reading those last seven words again- _that my death might redeem my life_- he saw what he would have to do.


	3. Torture

"Crucio."

The word, spoken tonelessly and dispassionately, had power behind it nonetheless; and Draco's knees hit cold hard concrete before he had even completely finished Apparating. Suddenly, every nerve ending was screaming; as the person holding the wand strengthened the curse, the pain grew more intense, until Draco felt he might go mad. He had never experienced pain like this before. His father had, of course, preformed Unforgiveables on him before in the hopes of preparing him for the future, but his father was not the Dark Lord, his father had not been this strong. Draco's own tortured, half- insane shrieks were the only things keeping him anchored to reality, from the blackness that nonetheless threatened to consume him. After several moments that seemed like hours to Draco, Voldemort lifted the curse somewhat, leaving Draco exhausted and panting on the floor and wincing as the aftereffects of the curse began to take hold. Sprawled on all fours, Draco summoned as much energy as he had left and lifted his head to stare into the flat, apathetic eyes of his "master." Flinching, Draco refused to look away until he felt the curse beginning to take hold again.

So began a cycle that lasted for hours. Voldemort strengthened or lifted the curse as he pleased, leaving Draco frayed, exhausted, and on the brink of unconsciousness. However, the sweet darkness that beckoned him never came; the Dark Lord, being _merciful_ as he was, always brought Draco back just before he was able to meet the sweet relief that he was convinced unconsciousness would bring. The only things he could think of were forcing all memories of Order meetings away from his conscious train of thought, for Voldemort could read his memories if Draco didn't guard them carefully; and Potter. His last conscious thought before giving way completely to animal instincts was to decide firmly that, no matter what, he would not give in. He would never again be called a traitor.

Whatever was worth living for was worth dying for, and Draco had made his choice.

Not as far away as either Draco or Harry would have believed, the boy- who- lived was striding past the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Doing everything he could to push thoughts of Malfoy from his mind while concentrating on what he now needed, on his third pass Harry spotted the door and immediately strode through it, locking its magical locks behind him. Looking around, he was pleased to see that it had at least worked. The room was well- lit, and stocked with everything Harry could think of that could possibly be of some use. First off, Harry grabbed several vials of potions which would ease the aftereffects of the Unforgivable Curses, which he put into an inside pocket of his robes. Next, medical supplies… Blood- replenishing potions… A spare invisibility cloak. The list went on. Finally satisfied that he had all he would need, Harry quickly shrunk the case and slipped it into his robes. Grabbing his wand and pulling his invisibility cloak around his shoulders, Harry set off for the large Hogwarts gates: he couldn't Disapparate on Hogwarts grounds, and he couldn't spare the time or danger it would mean to fly. So Apparating it was, although Harry didn't have a license and would surely be in trouble with the ministry if caught, no matter what the reason. As he pushed open the large double doors to the Entrance Hall for the second time that night, Harry began to concentrate on his destination; he knew beyond a question, beyond a shadow of a doubt where he would find Malfoy and Voldemort: Godrick's Hollow, home of James and Lily Potter almost seventeen years previously. Suddenly, however, Harry stumbled and fell to his knees on the path. A searing pain slashed through his scar with such intensity that he expected the hand that automatically went to his forehead to come away bloody. Feeling overtook him; he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think. His breath caught in his throat; his chest hitched as air hissed from between his teeth. Somehow, Harry automatically knew that he was feeling what Malfoy was feeling; and although it lasted only an instant, the searing pain in his head and fire in his body lingered. Shaking so badly that he feared he might not be able to walk, Harry slowly stood to his feet and continued at a much slower pace the last few yards to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds.

Reaching his destination, Harry momentarily leaned against one of the elegant stone pillars, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. Although he had been to Godrick's Hollow once before- three months previously, actually, at the beginning of the war, to search for horcuxes- it was always a shock to him to stand in the rooms in which his parents had spent their last moments and know in his heart that it was his fault.

Taking a deep breath, Harry concentrated on his former home, not even noticing the bloody crescents the pressure of his nails left on his palms. And with a CRACK that resounded in the cool, still air, he disappeared.

Hours later, Draco Malfoy lay in inky blackness, immobile on the freezing stone floor. The curses had left his body ravaged, and his nerves were frayed. He was on the brink of unconsciousness, and worse still, insanity. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that if Voldemort and his followers kept up much longer, they wouldn't need to kill him; he would be insane and better off dead. He was familiar with the stories his father had told him as a child, of Lord Voldemort's "projects," and did not relish the fact that he was set to become one of them. Suddenly, a slight noise broke the stillness of his exhausted mind, and although his body was still paralyzed from the effects of the curses, he reacted out of instinct and tried to move. A searing pain shot through his muscles, and he quivered. A small noise of pain escaped his throat, but he kept his lips tightly shut. Then, he heard another slight shuffling noise and someone murmured _"Lumos."_ Instantly, the cell was filled with a glow; Draco noticed with interest that whoever owned that wand was still hidden. Eyes shifting restlessly inside his immobile body, looking for movement, Draco's skin tingled lightly in anticipation, feeling the magic from the other wizard just on the edge of his senses: whoever it was must have been powerful. Even though his sharp, seeker eyes were searching the air around him, he was still shocked when Harry Potter threw back the hood on his invisibility cloak.

_Potter_, he tried to murmur, but his lips wouldn't move; he was frozen. Somehow, Potter seemed to understand this, and with surprising speed and gentleness he knelt beside Draco. Cradling Draco's head in his lap, he pulled a vial of potion from inside his robes and held it to Draco's lips.

"Malfoy," He muttered quietly and with surprising tenderness. "Drink this. It'll help with the aftereffects of the Unforgiveables." Draco could only shift his eyes mutely and allow the warm liquid to slide down his throat. Then, he saw Potter swiftly remove his invisibility cloak and fold it. Sliding it under Draco's head, he began to work on the rest of the damage inflicted on Draco's body.

Harry Potter found Draco Malfoy in a horrible state.

Rendered immoveable by the torture Voldemort had inflicted, he lay paralyzed on the freezing stone floor. Although Harry couldn't see him in the dark, he knew what he would find if he could; Malfoy had been in the same position for hours, even after Voldemort had left and drenched the place in darkness. Harry had been watching most of the ordeal; he knew that he wasn't strong enough to battle Voldemort yet, so he had been forced to remain in he background, invisible and silent (_and cowardly_, a little voice in his mind added; _don't forget cowardly_) while Malfoy's tortured screams echoed around the cold, aesthetic room until Harry thought he might go mad. Guilt lay like a heavy blanket upon him, even as he illuminated his wand and went to tend to Malfoy. Another failure, he berated himself as he gave Malfoy a vial of potion and pulled open his school robes to inspect the rest of the damage. Another person who had come to Harry for help; and Harry had- BIG surprise- failed him. The guilt and emotions were suffocating him, pressing on his chest like a boulder; emotion welled up inside of him, and he finally had to turn away from Malfoy's pathetic, broken form before he went insane. He had failed another innocent person.

Again.

He thought of Dumbledore, of Sirius, of the order members and innocent witches and wizards and muggles who had already died in this meaningless war...

And he'd never hated himself more than he did at that moment.


	4. Roommates?

"Serverous!" The sharp voice hissed, losing all pretense of patience or indulgence. "That is completely unacceptable. I am sorry. There is no way that Mr. Malfoy can possibly return to his fellow house mates in his current condition. You know as well as I do that many of the older Slytherins have parents who are Death Eaters. It would be totally inappropriate for Mr. Malfoy to return there and be placed in such danger after just escaping the Dark Lord Merlin- knows- how not 5 days ago! I'm sorry, but there is no other way." The new Headmistress Minerva McGonagall looked impatiently across her large desk at the Potions Master, daring him to contradict her.

After a moment's silence with Snape glaring just as fiercely as McGonagall, he finally nodded his ascent in a curt manner. "Fine. Pending Draco's agreement, I see no reason why he should be forced to remain in Slytherin. He will be housed elsewhere _if he so chooses_."

The Headmistress shook her head in exasperation. "Do you not understand, Serverous? His pride will not allow him to accept our offer of protection. Unless we intervene, you know as well as I do that he will choose to die with pride rather than submit and be protected."

Snape smiled thinly. "But he is an adult now, is he not? He is, after all, 17 and in his last year here."

"Hardly an excuse to allow him to sign his own death warrant," the former Transfiguration professor snapped. "And I hardly think that, considering your history here, you are in any position to be making demands."

Underneath of his Invisibility Cloak, Harry Potter smirked a very Slytherin smirk as he watched the expression on the dark haired man's face cool to a blank, unreadable mask. The wizarding world had been shocked when not only was Draco Malfoy acquitted of the killing of Albus Dumbledore (in part because of his Order work), but Snape, also because of his spy work for the order, was able to avoid Azkaban. Not only _that_- he had returned to Hogwarts as the Potions professor and the head of Slytherin house. Although deep down something wrenched inside of Harry every time he looked upon the face of the man who had killed Dumbledore, he had to admit that seeing all of the publicity that Snape was receiving was quite funny. Serves him right, the greasy git, he thought. All of the years he tortured me about being publicity hound, he should know how it feels. Watching from underneath the thin fabric, Harry saw Snape nod irritably and stride from the office. The Boy- Who- Lived had to feel bad for any students who would get in the professor's way tonight.

"You can take off the cloak now, Mr. Potter," The Headmistress requested, not looking up from where she had rested her face in her hands. "I see little good in pretending that you didn't hear our conversation, and there are some things that I need to discuss with you."

Sheepishly pulling the cloak from around his shoulders, Harry stood from where he had crouched in the corner of the office and hurried over to face McGonagall. She barely acknowledged him, just waved her hand in an indication for him to sit, which he hurriedly did. Sighing heavily, she began.

"These are dark times, Mr. Potter. I hardly know what to think anymore, if I may speak freely, what with Albus gone." She seemed choked up for a moment, and then continued in a somewhat stronger tone as though none of the previous events had occurred. Sitting up straighter in her chair, she looked down at Harry. "I understand that it is you who found Mr. Malfoy four days ago?"

Harry merely nodded. He had healed Malfoy the best he knew how, but it wasn't much, and he had had to Apparate back to Hogwarts with Malfoy in his arms like a bride. Swallowing his pride, he had carried Malfoy past stunned ghosts, portraits, and 7th years enjoying some 'extracurricular activities' in the privacy of the deserted hallways on his way to the Hospital Wing. Once there, Madam Pomfrey had nearly had a heart attack at the sight of Malfoy's still- paralyzed, lifeless form; and being the motherly woman that she was, she had forced Harry to stay the night, too. He hadn't been released until the following evening around dinnertime, and Malfoy had still been unconscious thanks to some strong Dreamless Sleep potion when he left. By then, of course, rumors of what had happened had made their way around the entire school (thanks to some loudmouthed portraits and ghosts) and everyone had wanted to know the story. Harry, however, hadn't told anyone but Hermionie, Ron, and Ginny; and when McGonagall had made a short announcement to the school that Mr. Malfoy had been attacked by the Dark Lord but was now being protected, the gossip only grew worse. Harry was finding it almost unbearable to even walk to classes anymore, and the Great Hall wasn't even an option. The Gryffindor common room was just as bad, and so most nights had been spent wandering the halls or grounds under his Invisibility Cloak, or in the Room of Requirement.

Thinking about some of the students' reactions (Ginny had almost hexed him to get the story out of him) and about Malfoy, Harry was lost in his thoughts until the Headmistress clearing her throat jerked him back to reality.

"I presume, then, that you will agree to be his new roommate."

Harry sat perfectly still for a moment, not completely sure he had heard correctly. Convinced that he hadn't heard what McGonagall had really said, he cleared his throat and in a too- loud voice replied, "Excuse me??"

McGonagall sighed. "You heard me, Mr. Potter. Stop acting as though what I've just told you comes is a great shock. You are, after all, the person he obviously trusts the most, since he went to you with the story yet he wouldn't tell myself or even Professor Snape a thing."

Harry was sure that he was dreaming by now. Malfoy had come only to him? _Him_, the Pureblood's sworn enemy since first year? And not his godfather Snape or the Headmistress of Hogwarts, either of whom could have given him protection?

Apparently McGonagall assumed that Harry's shocked expression and openmouthed gaping (that could have easily been mistaken for a fish's) were his way of consenting, for she then nodded briskly and stood.

"Very well then, Mr. Potter. You will find that your belongings have been moved to the 6th floor corridor, where your new quarters are housed. Your new home will be found behind a portrait of Godrick Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. The password will be "anonymity." You will be moved in right away, and Mr. Malfoy will be joining you as soon as Madam Pomfrey declares him healthy enough to leave. You will be expected to attend classes and meals as usual, and you will be allowed to visit the Gryffindor tower as you choose, but all school rules will apply. Which means no parties, and neither you nor Mr. Malfoy will be allowed to have friends from any houses in your common room or personal bedrooms as this could cause more unnecessary tension between the two of you. Your quarters contain a shared common room and bathroom, but you each will have separate bedrooms and the views of the grounds are stunning if I do say so myself. There will also be a place for you to keep your brooms and Quidditch equipment as you are both important players on your own House teams. Either I or Professor Snape will be there to look in on you and Mr. Malfoy once or twice a day or as often as we see fit to make sure that you are getting along. Any disobedience will not be tolerated and will be punished severely by either Professor Snape, myself, or any other teacher who feels it necessary. Do I make myself clear? Good. Now run to Gryffindor tower and let your friends know what has happened. I am sure they are missing you by now, as you've been here listening for over an hour and a half." Then giving him what she must have thought to be a reassuring smile, the headmistress swept out of the office leaving a stunned and slightly infuriated Harry standing in the middle of her office and gaping after her.

_Bloody hell, this place is boring_, Draco thought as he read one of the Quidditch magazines he had Accio'ed from the Slytherin dormitories for what felt like the millionth time. _What I wouldn't give to fly right now…_ Glancing out the window, he saw the Gryffindor Quidditch practice in full swing down at the pitch. The blurs of red and gold were almost indistinguishable at that distance, but Draco's sharp eyes could make out distinct players. There was one hovering slightly above and apart from the rest, and Draco didn't need to see the tousled black hair or infamous glasses to know that it was none other than Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World and one of the best Seekers in Hogwarts history. Smiling a little without even realizing that he was doing so, Draco was startled out of his thoughts by footsteps approaching his bed. Glancing up with a bored expression on his face, the mask quickly fell when he saw his godfather. Carefully concealing his feelings, he spoke in a formal and almost solemn tone.

"Good evening Professor."

Snape simply snorted. "That I very much doubt. And it is about to get a lot worse for you, my boy."

Draco was instantly alert, but kept his face and voice carefully aloof. "Oh?"

Snape sighed. "You are to be removed from the Slytherin house as it is thought that your being there could jeopardize your safety. It is believed that the Dark Lord is still looking for you, and some of your housemates' parents are well known for where their loyalties lay. You will still take meals and classes with them if you so choose, but you will not be permitted to enter the Slytherin common room or dormitories without a teacher present at all times for your own safety."

Draco, whose face was cooling even farther throughout this exchange, kept his voice carefully neutral. "I see."

Snape laughed, a forced, jagged sound. "That I very much doubt. There is more. Your new roommate is to be none other than the famous Harry Potter."

Draco, all pretences of decorum completely forgotten, sat gaping at Snape for several moments, his jaw working but no sound coming out. Finally, the professor ran out of patience and roughly grabbed the boy by the collar of his hospital gown. Crying out in shock, Draco allowed himself to be dropped back onto his pillows.

"Now listen here, Draco," The Potions Master growled. "I understand that you're not looking forward to rooming with Potter, but it is for your safety. You had best simply follow the rules and do the best you can with the situation. As your godfather, I cannot allow you to remain in the Slytherin house and risk your safety. I will not tolerate any insolence coming from either you or Potter on this matter- and no, he does not have a choice in this matter any more than you do. Do I make myself understood? Very well. Your new quarters are on the 6th floor behind a portrait of the founders of Gryffindor and Slytherin. You and Potter have separate bedrooms but are expected to share a common room and bathroom. The password is 'anonymity.' You will attend classes and meals as usual unless you would prefer to isolate yourself from your house, and of course you are not allowed to visit the Slytherin quarters without an escort, as I have told you. Either myself or the Headmistress will look in on you to see that you have not murdered each other as often as we deem necessary."

Snape paused as though mentally going through everything he'd said and making sure he hadn't left anything out. Draco was sending him pleading looks (which the Professor was steadily ignoring) and finally whispered in a rather hoarse voice,

"Please Serverous. Is there any other way?"

The older man sighed, his harsh appearance fading. "I am sorry, Draco. I talked to Headmistress McGonagall about giving you other options- I even asked if it were possible for you to move into my quarters, as I am your godfather, but that idea was rejected for obvious reasons. There is not a single person in this school who trusts either of us. Anyone else as a roommate would not be an option- any other Gryffindor besides Potter would hex you where you stood; any Slytherin would be too easily manipulated into handing you over to the Dark Lord; any Ravenclaw is far too smart to even become involved with the situation; and do you honestly want to try and room with a Huffelpuff?- any one of them would drop dead for fear of you. I will do everything I can, but for now all I can do is ask that you please exercise as much patience and caution as possible- never mind your pride- and that you try to adjust to the new arrangements as best you can. If the threat to your life were not so great, the matter would be different, but there is no other way. There is nowhere you are safer than at Hogwarts, and it is not safe for you to stay alone as you are still a student and are less skilled than most well- trained Death Eaters. There is nothing I can do." And with a last look at his godson, Serverous Snape rose from his chair and swept out of the Hospital Wing, leaving a stunned Draco in his wake.

Several hours later, Draco was startled out of a fitful doze by the sound of arguing voices outside of the closed doors to the Hospital Wing. Listening, he was surprised to realize that they belonged to none other than the Golden Trio, and they sounded like they were heading his way. The doors burst open, and suddenly a very agitated Ron Weasely, a very exasperated and annoyed Hermionie Granger, and a desperate looking Harry Potter were revealed.

"-told you, Ron, there's nothing I can do! What, do you think this was MY idea of a way to spend my last year in school?!" Harry Potter was practically yelling at his bright red friend.

"I don't care, Harry! Obviously something's to be done! They can't just give you no options like that! If Dumbledore were still here"- But he broke off at the sight of Harry's face when Dumbledore was mentioned, which gave Hermionie an opening to say in a perfectly calm, rational voice

"You're taking this out of proportion, Ronald. Harry didn't ask for this and the least we can do is support him. Obviously McGonagall had a very good reason for asking Harry to be the one to room with Malfoy, and he needs our support more than anything. It's not his fault. Besides, he'll still eat with us and take classes with us, and you know that he'll be in the common room every free second he has."

Although Ron didn't appear to be soothed by her words- far from it, he was turning redder- Harry smiled gratefully at her and she back at him. Draco, who was extremely amused by the sight of the three, couldn't help the dry chuckle that escaped his throat which unfortunately for him did not go unnoticed by the three Gryffindors. All three turned at the same time (and, Draco noted, Potter automatically drew his wand) before they noticed Draco there in the hospital bed, looking thoroughly amused by the scene.

"Oh, please, don't stop on my account," He drawled sarcastically, smirk firmly in place. "This is the most entertainment I've had all day."

Ron, who was already bright red, turned even redder at the statement and drew his wand before Hermionie and Harry grabbed him at the same time and wrestled the wand from his grasp.  
"No fights, Ronald," Hermionie said firmly, tucking his wand into a pocket of her robes. "It's time for dinner anyway. Come on, let's go eat and let Harry and Malfoy have a conversation. We'll meet you down there, Harry," She added over Ron's shoulder and, grabbing Ron by the arm, practically dragged him out of the infirmary, shutting the door behind her.

"Wow," Draco commented in mock- amazement. "Now I see who wears the pants in the relationship."

Harry, to his surprise, snorted and replied "Yeah, they're interesting. They act like a married couple- or at least they fight like one- but both swear they don't have feelings for each other. They even tried dating over the summer, and honestly I've never seen anything look more awkward." Draco smirked.

"So, Scarhead, I hear that you're my new roommate."

"Yeah, ferret, and I hear that they finally potty trained you. So maybe if we get you a litter box and a nice little wheel to run on and some newspaper to sleep on we will get along just fine."

"Don't count on it, Potter," Draco muttered under his breath.

Harry nearly lost it. "Is that seriously all you have to say to me, Malfoy? I saved your life, remember? Went after you after you left me a note in a tree? Risked my neck to bring your ungrateful carcass back here? Especially after Dumbledore. I don't care that you've been a good little Order member ever since you took the Mark, you still would've killed him, you along with our favorite potions master. So don't start with me."

Draco snorted. "Oh, please, Potter, could you drop the whole hero complex for two seconds? You know as well as I do that I never asked you to drag your perfect saintly arse after me. All I left the note for was so that the whole world wouldn't think I was a complete bastard after I was gone. I did mean everything I said. But you being perfect took it upon yourself to follow me and bring me back here. I never wanted any of this, OK? You want me to be grateful for something I never asked you to do? Dream on."

Exasperated, Harry put his hands up. "Okay, you win. I should never have saved your sorry arse. I should have left you to rot in that cell just like I left Sirius and Dumbledore. Next time I won't even bother. I'm not completely sure why I do anyway, since I obviously am meant to just screw up the lives of everyone I come into contact with. I'll stay out of your way when we move in together and you stay out of mine, and everything will be OK. Forget I ever said a word." And with that, Harry turned on his heel to leave, but turned back and said "Oh, almost forgot. I came here to let you know that your Firebolt and Quidditch gear are stored in our new quarters, along with mine. Just so that you don't lose it when you find them gone from the shed." And with that, he walked out of the room.


	5. Lessons Part I

**A/N: I know I've been taking forever to update, sorry. If this chapter starts out confusing, just keep reading, it shouldn't take all that long for the gist of it to sink in. Also, I'm writing a Christmas story for one of my friends and if anybody's interested in me posting it on here let me know. The requirements she gave me are: -Setting: Hogwarts at Christmastime -Pairings: Slash (any characters) and at least one femmeslash (any characters) -Rating: M or higher -Length: 1-3 Chapters.** **At her request the twins Fred and George will also somehow be incorporated and at least one of them has to be gay, and all the male main characters have to be included. I have to include a party. And I'm not allowed to focus on just one pairing. Not quite sure how I'm going to pull all of this off (In case you didn't notice by the T rating on my story, I'm not great with writing sex scenes) but hey it should be fun. (I'm making her write me a harry/draco story too. and it has to include hermionie/snape. haha.) Ok, one last thing: it's come to my attention that I haven't attatched a disclaimer to any of these chapters, so...**

**I don't own Harry Potter. Or any of the characters. But my lawers are working on it...**

**And now, I'm done. On with the story:**

"Potter!" Draco Malfoy shouted. "Bloody fucking pay attention! I haven't got all night to spend on this stupid shit."

Harry Potter glared back at the blonde- haired Slytherin. "And let me tell you it was all my idea for McGonagall to order my worst enemy the Death Eater to get inside my mind and read my memories."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Ex- Death Eater, Potter," He hissed dangerously. "And guarding your mind is a basic skill that even your thick skull should be able to understand. We're going to try again. Now."

Harry simply glared back, resigned. If only looks could kill…

Trying to build his walls as the Malfoy heir had told him to do, he felt the familiar pressure of the boy's mind in his own; and he thought for just a moment that his defenses were holding until suddenly they crumbled around him.

_"Potter! Get in here, freak!" The voice of Harry's Uncle Vernon (how Draco knew who it was, was beyond him) boomed from somewhere out of sight. Suddenly, a young boy who could have been no older than ten appeared in the doorway, visibly trembling. It was then that Draco noticed the stench of whiskey; and glancing towards a large, overstuffed recliner in the corner of the room, he saw a heavyset, red- faced man with a heavy- bottomed glass scowling at the child._

_"Yes, Uncle?" The boy who was unmistakably Harry Potter squeaked nervously (the lightning scar and too- big clothes were a huge giveaway, even if the glasses were different), sounding a lot like that incompetent Gryffindor Neville Longbottom. _

_"Come here." The words were spat in a voice that clearly said that the young boy wasn't even worth the man's trouble, and without hesitation the boy obeyed, fear shining in his eyes…_

"Damnit, Malfoy!" Harry yelled, suddenly shoving the Slytherin and effectively breaking his concentration on Harry's memory. "What the fuck?"

Draco flinched, taken by surprise, and then stared boldly back at the angry Gryffindor. "Sorry, Golden Boy, just wanted to make sure that the charming Muggles you call your family treat their saviour with all due respect." He made a mocking bow before continuing. "So what happened after that, Potter? Unless, of course, you'd rather not tell me. I wouldn't want to offend your _sensitive_ feelings."

Harry's face cooled to a blank, indifferent mask. "That's it. Tell McGonagall that I had a fit or something and we couldn't continue. We're done with this."

He had started to walk away when the other boy grabbed his arm and spun him around. "We're not through here," Draco hissed through gritted teeth. No one dismissed him so easily, especially not this stupid mudblood- loving Gryffindor.

"Oh, but we are."

"Nice try, Scarface. I refuse to bend to your will and grovel just because everyone around you will, and I certainly refuse to pity you just because those Muggles you live with don't worship the ground you walk on like those pitiful Gryffindors and mudbloods you call your friends."

"As if it was your business in the first place," Harry turned again, muttering. "Go suck Voldemort's, Malfoy. Everyone already knows that your entire family does." Immediately, he knew that the Pureblood had heard him, and that he had made a mistake. He felt a wand at his back, between his shoulder blades, and inconspicuously drew his own.

"Don't. Ever. Mention. My. Family. Again." Draco managed to reply through gritted teeth.

"Ooh, hit a sore spot, didn't I? Not so proud of your perfect father now, are you? Now that he's caught and in Azkaban? Who'll protect you now, Drakie- boy?"

"Go suck Dumbledore's," Draco replied evenly, eyes blazing. His voice took on a fake and overly- innocent voice as he added "Oh yeah, I forgot about that whole him- being- dead thing. My mistake. Maybe your godfather could help you think of a suitable punishment for me? Oh, that's right, he's dead too. Oops…"

But he had crossed the line. In one fluid movement, Harry spun and pointed his wand at the boy, shooting a spell.

"Expellermous!"

Draco managed to shield himself just in time, causing the spell to narrowly bounce off of him; Harry stepped out of the way easily, warily facing the other boy. But then something happened that he hadn't expected. Malfoy lowered his wand and began to walk away.

"Malfoy!" He shouted. "Malfoy! What the fuck? We're not done here!" But the Slytherin was walking away.

"Not tonight," He replied simply and with what seemed like a touch of sadness. "It's not worth it."

Harry sighed. "Fine. We try once more and if we don't get anywhere, we're done. Screw McGonagall."

Draco inclined his head slightly, showing that he agreed. He concentrated once again on the black- haired boy, and just as every time before, met with almost no resistance as he quickly made his way into the unguarded mind. Not wanting to pry and start another fight- that wouldn't end well and there was a Slytherin house party in the Room of Requirement that he wanted to be at in twenty minutes- he began to draw back. But just as he started to break the connection, the previous memory caught his attention, and before he could stop himself, he felt himself watching again in mute fascination.

_"Potter! Get in here, freak!" Draco watched once again while, just as before, the young green- eyed boy appeared in the doorway, looking hesitant._

_"Yes, Uncle?"_

_"Come here." Watching, Draco saw the dark haired boy cross the room; the scent of muggle whiskey was heavy, although not as potent as that of firewhiskey, and the red- faced man in the corner looked pissed. Draco flinched involuntarily at the sound of the first blow to the boy's innocent face; the Slytherin now understood why the Gryffindor's glasses were always broken. He watched in horror as it began. The abuse was more verbal than anything at first, but then with a swift kick to the boy's legs the man brought him to his knees in a submissive gesture. Watching the man kick him once, Draco flinched again at the sickening sound of what might have been a rib cracking; the boy's 'uncle' smirked in grim satisfaction, weaving where he stood, obviously piss drunk. Grabbing the boy by his dark mop of messy hair, he dragged the small figure to his feet still gasping for air and looked him right in the face._

_"You are worthless, freak," He spat, ignorant or maybe just disinterested in the tears that were streaming down the young boy's face. "Your parents never cared about you- hell, they died just to get away from you- and we certainly never wanted you. So don't you dare expect any sympathy from _me_, you worthless piece of shit, when you try get into that freak school of yours and you figure out that none of them want you there, either." He continued self- righteously, anger only seeming to build as he went on, and soon he went back to hitting the boy a few more times- well placed blows, Draco noticed, that were powerful but wouldn't leave marks. The only permanent damage the boy would have from the night would be a black eye and a cracked rib; and that could easily be explained as him having fallen down the stairs (by accident, of course)…_

Harry Potter felt the familiar sensation of the 'ex'- Death Eater's mind entering his own, breaking down his defenses, and preparing to leave; just then, however, the memory that the Malfoy had seen part of earlier resurfaced. Harry groaned mentally, reliving the memory as the Slytherin watched it; but just then he noticed something odd about Malfoy's mind. It seemed that whatever Legillimency the blonde had attempted had gone wrong somehow; because not only could the Slytherin see the Gryffindor's memories, but the Gryffindor could also see the Slytherin's. Feeling suddenly reckless and not too worried about what the grey- eyed boy would see (after all, any second now he would withdraw, right?) Harry began to explore the boy's mind.

_"Master Draco! Master Malfoy is wanting you in his office right this instant, sir," The apologetic, nervous- looking house elf stood before the Malfoy heir wringing his hands and twisting his ears. Draco nodded curtly- it must be a skill they mastered early, Harry thought; the boy couldn't have been older than eleven- and with a –POP-, the house elf Dissapparated. Sighing, the young boy looked himself over in a full- length mirror that stood beside him. He was wearing the Wizarding equivalent of a suit, for the party that was about to be held in honor of his birthday- and his first official introduction to the Dark Arts. Wearily, he turned and headed down the hallway with an expression that clearly stated he didn't want to go._

_"Draco," Lucious Malfoy called as his young son knocked on the partially opened door to his study. "Come in, come in." The boy entered, closing the door inconspicuously behind him. He had an air about him that said he knew what he was there for and had resigned himself to the fact. Without speaking another word, the elder pointed his wand at the younger and mouthed a spell that looked suspiciously like 'crucio.' _

_"I want you to listen to me, _Son_. The Dark Lord will be in attendance tonight. Do not screw this up or I promise you that there will be hell to pay. Do I make myself understood?" The young boy now lying on the floor writhing in pain made no reply. "AM I UNDERSTOOD?" The man demanded, strengthening the curse as he did so. "Yes, sir," A small voice replied from the floor, obviously straining with the agony of the curse. A slow smile spread on the man's lips. "Good," He replied, lifting the curse with a flick of his wand and leaving the young boy panting. "Make me proud." And without a word, he swept from the ornate study, leaving the young boy with tears beginning to roll down his cheeks…_

"What the fu"- Both Harry and Draco demanded in unison as their concentration suddenly broke to a knocking at their portrait. Glancing at each other, they simultaneously looked at the door; whoever it was was getting really impatient. Wordlessly, Draco crossed the space and opened the portrait with a flick of his wand.

"McGon- Headmistress," The Slytherin corrected himself hurriedly, trying desperately not to let it show that he was shaken. It took him only a moment to fix his infamous Malfoy mask back on his face; and as he turned impassively he saw that Potter, too, looked suddenly indifferent.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," The former Transfiguration professor greeted the two cool boys in a formal tone. "I trust that I am not interrupting anything?"

The enemies shared a glance. "Not at all, professor," Harry hurriedly replied, when Draco was silent. "Mal- Draco was just giving me my Occulmency lesson." The headmistress nodded.

"That is good to know. You may carry on, boys. I was just checking to make sure that everything was all right here; but I am quite busy, as you may know, so I will bid you good- night." With this, she stepped back through the portrait and shut it behind her, leaving the two stunned 7th years in her wake.

"Bloody _hell_," Harry Potter muttered to himself five minutes later, as he paced the length of his bedroom and back again, locking and silencing charms firmly in place on his door. "What the _hell_ was that? Merlin, I think Draco Malfoy just saw one of my memories… And I saw one of his." He abruptly stopped pacing, wondering how much the Ice Prince had seen and- more importantly- what he would do with the information. Groaning, he sat back on his bed, head in his hands. Merlin, what had just happened? What had he done? He wasn't completely sure of what memory- or memories- the Prince of Slytherin had seen, or worse, what damage he could inflict with them; although he was almost sure that the grey- eyed boy had only seen the one night seven years previously with his uncle, there was no way to know. Sighing, he stood and _Accio'ed_ his Invisibility Cloak. It was almost after curfew, and there was no point in getting caught and getting a detention or points docked in the first week. Pulling it around his shoulders, he swept from his room, down the stairs, through the common room and the portrait, and into the corridors of Hogwarts.

_Damn McGonagall,_ he thought vehemently as he tried unsuccessfully to calm himself. _What the hell was she thinking? Making me room with a Death Eater (no matter what he says), a Slytherin, my worst enemy! And as if that's not bad enough, she tells us two days later that he has to teach me Occulmency because he effectively used it around the Dark Lord? This is bull! It's an invasion of privacy! There's no possible way she's allowed to do that… _He slowed, sighing (careful not to be too loud- ghosts, portraits, Mrs. Norris, Filch, Snape- who knew what might be patrolling the corridors?) and looked around him. He realized then that his feet had carried him to the portrait of the Fat Lady; and wondering hopefully if maybe Ron or Hermionie was still up, he hissed the password and waited for the portrait to swing open, muttering something irritably about rude students and curfews and her necessity for sleep. Stepping in, Harry eased the portrait shut behind him, cutting off her grumbling, and looked around. As he had hoped, the place was deserted save for one person: Hermionie, just the witch to talk to about something like this. He removed his cloak, but she didn't even turn around before she said: "Honestly, Harry, do you know what time it is? You should be asleep or at least doing something productive like studying." He smiled a little. Leave it to Hermionie.

"I sort of need to talk to you about something."

She nodded. "I sort of figured as much." She gestured at the couch beside her. "Sit. It has to do with Malfoy, doesn't it?" Harry nodded. "Well?" She asked expectantly.

So Harry launched into the story, telling Hermionie all of the details he could think of- he knew that she would want them- and trying to leave nothing out. When he was finished, she was silent for a good ten minutes, staring thoughtfully into the fire. Then, she began.

"It sounds to me like you and Malfoy established a connection of some sort. Normally during Legillimency, the connection that is made is brief and only one- way; but as you experienced, sometimes there can be an exception. I have never known of a specific case until now, though, which is unusual." Harry was silent, eyes never leaving her face, waiting for her to continue. "I'm not sure how this connection changed and ended up with both you and Malfoy inside each other's heads. Sometimes, when the two people feel very passionately about each other- and no, don't look at me like that, passionate doesn't always have to mean good feelings- those emotions can open the two up to each other, create a pathway. If this is the case, then any time he tries to use Legillimency on you, or you on him, then a direct two- way link will be established between the two of you that even Occulmency can't block." Harry groaned.

"McGonagall is hellbent on me learning this," He moaned. "Isn't there some way to break the connection so that I can just have the stupid lessons and get it over with?"

"I'll have to do some research," She replied. "Give me a couple of days, OK? Until then, I wouldn't mention to anyone what you saw, and maybe Malfoy will do the same, since you both have blackmail material now." He nodded mutely. "Now go get some sleep. I'll see you at breakfast." Nodding again, he thanked her and pulled his Invisibility Cloak back around himself, wondering if he would be able to sleep that night.

Draco Malfoy sat in the common room he shared with the boy- who- lived long after Potter had swept open the portrait and vanished underneath his infamous Invisibility Cloak, staring at the fire. He had cast an Invisibility charm on himself before leaving his room, and he watched the fire with the closest thing he could manage to peacefulness. He was thinking of the memory he had seen of Potter's. He knew, too, that Potter had seen one of his; but it didn't bother him all that much. His father was in Azkaban, anyway.

He, unlike the muggle- raised Potter, knew exactly what had happened between the two that night- they had established a connection. Usually he knew that during Legillimency a one- way connection was made: one person with another person's memories. But now, whenever he tried to teach Potter Occulmency (and he knew without a doubt that McGonagall would insist that they keep attempting to train poor defenseless Potter) they would be able to read each other like a book.

Damn.

Why did it have to be _Potter,_ of all people? Why couldn't it have been anyone else? The one person who still suspected him of being a Death Eater (even though he would be killed if he went back), the one person who stood for everything he'd been taught to hate.

Damn!

Unconsciously curling his hands into fists, the blonde- haired boy sighed wearily and stood. He figured there wasn't any use in trying to go back to bed, so he figured that the empty Quidditch pitch and some flying on his Firebolt (his prized possession) would clear his nerves. Taking it from the storage closet that joined with the common room, he cast an Invisibility charm on it as well before stepping out of the window six floors up and flying into the night.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. I assume that you both know why you are here." McGonagall said sternly, somehow managing to look down on the two boys even though they were standing while she sat. "Please," She said, motioning to the two chairs set up in front of the desk. "Sit down."

Three weeks had passed since the Legillimency incident. Since then, Harry and Draco hadn't spoken, even to fight like they had at first. Neither mentioned the memories to the other, or even looked in each other's directions. The Occulmency lessons, for obvious reasons (at least obvious to the two boys), hadn't been continued. However, neither Snape nor McGonagall was as sympathetic as the two had hoped that their heads- of- house might be; and consequently they had been assigned detention after detention (McGonagall) and had house points docked until both Slytherin and Gryffindor were tied in last place for the House Cup (Snape). And now here they were in McGonagall's office, looking everywhere but at each other or her.

"Now," She began formally, looking both teens in the face. "I understand that both of you are uncomfortable at the prospect of continuing Mr. Potter's Occulmency training with the current developments. However," here she paused, "It is of vital importance that Mr. Potter learns to guard his mind. So I will make the two of you a deal." Draco and Harry glanced at each other for a split second before looking back at McGonagall, thinking that their prayers had been answered. "I will allow you, Mr. Malfoy, to be relieved of your teaching duties," She paused again, and the triumphant looks on the teens' faces grew. "If and only if a replacement teacher can be found." Suddenly, the looks of joy vanished. But then, in true Slytherin fashion, Draco smirked.

"Really, headmistress," He drawled, "Why not just allow Po- _Harry_ to continue training with Professor Snape?" Harry glared at the pale boy, but the Slytherin didn't notice. McGonagall just looked at the two of them.

"I spoke to Professor Snape when this matter first arose, and he assures me that there is nothing more he can do. As you know, he has his duties as a spy to attend to, as well as Potions classes; and he must make healing potions for the infirmary, as well as St. Mungo's at times. I'm afraid that he is not able or willing to take on the task." Harry's annoyed expression suddenly changed to a look of horror as he began to understand what McGonagall was telling the two of them. Draco kept his face carefully neutral, but he, too, suddenly understood what they were being told.

"There is no one else," Harry said softly in a defeated voice. "Sna- _Professor_ Snape and Mal- _Draco_ are the only two at Hogwarts who can guard their minds?" He asked the last part as a question, desperation coloring his voice, and the headmistress nodded.

"I am sorry, boys," She said simply, not sounding apologetic at all. "There is nothing that I can do for the two of you. So, you will continue with Mr. Potter's training, Mr. Malfoy"- She was cut off by the two loudly complaining, Draco about having to work with the Golden Boy and Harry about his right to privacy, when she continued over top of them- "If you fail to do so, then both of you are relieved of your positions on the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams and your positions as Prefects." The silence in her office was deafening.

"_What?_" Draco spat through gritted teeth, after a moment to recover. "You can't do that"-

"But I assure you, Mr. Malfoy," She told him, her tone icy, "I can and I will. Twenty points from Slytherin for using such a tone with me. Now, I assume that you both understand my instructions. You are dismissed." And with a wave of her hand, she went back to her paperwork like the two shocked, angry teens weren't even there.

"So there's absolutely nothing I can do?" Harry demanded desperately of Hermionie over dinner that night. She shook her head.

"Sorry, Harry," She replied. "I've been researching it for the past three weeks, and I can't find a single way to break the connection you and Malfoy made." Harry groaned at hearing the words "you and Malfoy" and "connection" in the same sentence. Ron looked up for a moment from attacking his mashed potatoes.

"Rotten luck, that," He said between bites of roast beef and staring at Lavender Brown a few seats away from him. "Pass the Pumpkin Juice, mate, would you?" Harry wordlessly handed Ron the pitcher and stood up.

"I'm going to go fly for a while," He announced. "I'm supposed to be in the common room with Malfoy at eight for my 'lesson.' If I survive it, I'll see you guys later at the tower." Hermionie sent him an encouraging smile, doing the best she could to help, and even Ron looked up for a moment and sent him a sympathetic look as he turned away to leave the Great Hall.

Two tables over, Draco Malfoy watched these happenings with a smirk. So the Golden Boy wasn't looking forward to this either.

"Draco?" A voice cut through his thoughts. He looked over to see Pansy Parkinson staring back at him. "Are you all right? You haven't touched your food." He smirked back at her, causing her to blush.

"Fine, Parkinson," He replied, though not in a mean way. "Just thinking about tonight."

"Oh yeah? What's happening tonight?"

He shrugged, trying to draw her attention away from what he had said. "Nothing much," He replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

She smiled seductively (or what she must have thought was seductively) at him and stood. "I'll be in the common after curfew if you want to…" She left the rest of the sentence to the imagination.

"Can't, Pansy," he replied rather tersely. "Wards, remember? I couldn't get into the Slytherin dungeons even if I really wanted to."

She nodded. "Right. Well, see you tomorrow then." Wordlessly, he stood, walked to the double doors with her, and turned his back as he left the Great Hall.


End file.
